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Collections

Step into my poetry collections—pages born from sleepless nights, broken days, and the rare sparks of hope that kept me going. Every verse is a piece of my struggle, my healing, my heart laid bare. If my words speak to you, you can hold them close, only on Apple Books.

My Books

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The Peddler and the Artist

This is where it all cracked open for me. In just a few months, more than 1,100 poems tore their way out of me—raw, restless, and desperate to be heard. They weren’t polished. They weren’t gentle. They were survival. Each line carried the weight of illness, the haze of medication, the madness of nights that wouldn’t end.

This first collection isn’t just the start of a series—it’s the start of me clawing my way through chaos with nothing but words. These poems are fragments of episodes I barely survived, moments when my mind was both my cage and my weapon. They are unfiltered, messy, alive. They’re not just poems; they’re scars pressed into paper, shadows that still follow me, proof that even in the darkest corners, my spirit refused to stay silent.

Get it on Apple Books
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The Peddler and the Artist II

If the first book was me breaking open, this one is me bleeding deeper. The journey didn’t end—it twisted, darkened, and pulled me further into the labyrinth of my mind. These poems don’t just revisit the struggle; they claw at the scars, peel them back, and show what still lingers underneath.

But in the cracks, there are flickers—small, stubborn lights that refused to die out. This collection is both the collapse and the climb, the raw ache of staying alive and the fragile thread of hope that somehow kept me moving forward. These verses are not polished comforts—they’re the echoes of survival, the proof that even in the ruins, there’s something worth holding onto.

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Notebook and light—Mind Notes

Chasing 200 Echoes

In just seven days, two hundred poems ripped their way out of me—unfiltered, unplanned, unstoppable. They came like a storm I couldn’t hold back, each one a raw fragment of my unraveling mind. This collection isn’t polished—it’s jagged, urgent, a snapshot of me caught in the thick of it.

Every line is a record of the progression, the way my illness twists and mutates, pulling me deeper into chaos. These poems are echoes, relentless and overlapping, refusing to let me rest. They capture the fight to make sense of myself in the middle of the storm—the pain, the cracks, the flickers of resilience that keep me from disappearing completely. Chasing 200 Echoes is both a collapse and a pulse, proof that even when drowning, I still found a way to speak.

Get it on Apple Books